Fit Club

I feel like I have always been active. Gymnastics, ballet, tap and soccer as a kid. Horses for over a decade. After my equine retirement I was at a loss on how to stay fit. I first stepped into the gym at 23....before then the world was my playground (are you laughing at the fact that I just typed that? Well, I am. Ha ha!). But it's the truth. I always has a physical activity. Going to the gym had never entered my universe.

Being me, I found solace in the gym. My obsession was short lived, but while I was there I got in the best shape of my life. Then I met a great guy, dug into my new career, got married and had kids. Each live changer took time away from the gym and added a pound here and there. I always had my membership just in case I would end up with an extra hour....an extra hour? What a joke.

For a while I would make it to the gym at least three days a week. Then it trickled to two days, then one, and then once every two weeks. You get the idea. Something else always took priority....or maybe I just let other things become a priority...however ya wanna shake it, I wasn't making it to the gym.

I hurt my back a few weeks ago when I fell with one of the boys in my arm...sounds much more dramatic that it really was. The pain was bad and I limped to a new chiropractor to get a tune up.
After a 15 minute download on my personal, physical and diet history, the doctor gave me my marching orders. Change your diet (no dairy, no meet, no gluten) to cure the every present ulcer and start exercising....chasing kids and cleaning up toys was not enough. Time....couldn't you have written me a prescription for more time? Just one extra hour?

I had been waking up at 4am (truth) to get some work items done. So, why not exercise then? Well, CPS usually frowns on leaving the kids alone for extended periods of time. I was on a mission to find something that I could do at home. What comes to mind first when working out in your living room? The horrors of Jane Fonda or Sweating to the oldies VHS tapes. I can't do that. My ego has enough bruises. Richard Simmons would be the beginning of my complete demise. Next I'd be shopping QVC late nights hoping for a great deal on Quacker Factory clothing. FML.

I had heard of the P90X thing for a while. The infomercials showed fit people working out and getting more fit. But where were the chubby kids? Where were the soft people? The round shape club? Well, when my box of P90X tricks arrived in the mail, I quickly found out.

Getting down to business I completely ignored the note about taking a fit test before hand. Fit test? I'll be fine. 12 CD's complete with a calendar to track your progress. Let's get it on!!!

The first day I didn't have much time so I decided to do the shortest CD. Ab Ripper X. This guy Tony who is in amazing shape appears on the TV screen...remember its before 5am. So chipper people are frowned upon. He doesn't mess around. We did something like 349 ab/core exercises in less than 15 minutes. No breaks, no water, no messing around. It was hell. I looked like a fish flopping on the carpet. I cursed at this Tony dude at least a dozen times as he and his disciples effortlessly crunched and flexed their ripped bodies. P90X isn't for fat kids....it's for fit people....I am not a fit person...yet.

My hip flexors (muscles at the top of your thigh, right where your thigh meets your hip) were so sore that while driving I could not lift my leg from the gas petal to the break with out crying out in pain. She would comment "what's wrong? Why are you making that noise?"
"My legs hurt."
"Do you need a bandaide?"
I wish it was that easy.

Two days later I did plyometrics aka jump training....I could barely walk down a slight incline. It was horror. I continue to curse Tony each time I see his smug mug on the TV screen. Two days ago I did Kenpo X...basically a lot of Karate kicks and punches. I can barely straighten my arms. Tomorrow I will tackle another CD...what can I say, I am a bit of a masochist.



"Where are you going Papa?"
"I have to go to work."
He left the room and she looked sad.
"It's okay. He'll be back later. I promise."
"I gonna miss him."
For me, tears. Only two, but still how adorable.

When he came back in the room to say goodbye, she told him "Papa, I gonna miss you."
My eyes started weeping. He looked at her and said "When I come back, I will bring you and your brothers a surprise."
Bum, bum, bum.....big mistake mister. "You'd better hold true to your word." I warned.

As the day went by, references to this "surprise" were hourly. She threw it into every conversation.
"If I finish my breakfast Papa will bring me a surprise."
"If I finish my lunch and take nap, Papa will bring me a surprise."
I thought about calling him to remind him, but figured he made his bed....he can sleep in it.

His truck pulled up, and as usual the dogs started whining. She went crazy. Leaping and clapping her hands. Papa was home. The "surprise" was within her reach. She dove out the garage door. "Papa, Papa do you have my surprise?"
His face went blank. His heart sank...or at least I hope it did, because my heart sank.
He mouthed "Oh, shit!"
She continued quizzing him, "Papa, do you have my surprise?" "Where is my surprise?"
He thought fast (kinda dumb, but fast) and handed her a water bottle. Nice work slick.
"Mommy, look at my surprise."
I was less than impressed and so was she.

But she quickly realized that a water bottle is not a surprise. The questionning continued. "Papa, Papa, you said you would bring a surprise?"
"I didn't think she would remember."
Clearly, he has not listened to my stories.....sucker. That will teach you.

Each time she asked it was like a knife to his heart. I thought about letting him suffer. But his suffering was also her suffering...and I just couldn't handle her desperate tone. So I bailed him out. He became the hero of the night as he unveiled a Toy Story 3 toy with Jessie and Bullseye that I had picked up a few weeks ago. He was a hero...in her mind. In my mind, well, let's just say neener, neener, neener....I told you so.